


Dragon Age: Rise of the Dread Wolf

by sapphirejournalist



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age - Various Authors, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dragon Age IV Speculation, F/F, F/M, Gen, I can't believe I did this, LGBTQ Character, Lavellan/Solas Angst (Dragon Age), Multi, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Relationship(s), Romance, Slow Burn, Solavellan Hell, The world is on fire and everything is fine, Worldbuilding, dragon age 4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:20:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29656761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirejournalist/pseuds/sapphirejournalist
Summary: Ex-Inquisitor Amarel of Clan Lavellan has nearly been through it all: Time travel, immortal Old Gods, traveling the Fade physically (two times), politics, raising an army from nothing and seeing it subsequently fall. She's saved the world twice and lost an arm in the process. Her chapter in history should be over.But the world is in need of saving again. And if she wants to redeemhim, she'll have to take up the mantle. Amarel has no Inquisition, no magic, she can't bring her friends, and she's up against an ancient elf who knows war like the back of his hand. The odds are stacked against her.Luckily, she's used to that.With the world blissfully ignorant and time against her, Amarel must gather new companions and find Solas before he tears down the Veil. But delving into the past can mean uncovering dark truths that were meant to stay hidden. All while a far more sinister threat lurks within the shadows.Amarel's fought monsters... But she's never fought someone she loves. And this may not be a battle she can win.
Relationships: Dalish (Dragon Age: Inquisition)/Solas, Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan/Solas, Fen'Harel | Solas/Female Lavellan, Lavellan & Solas, Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 12
Kudos: 14





	1. The Dreamers

_Act 1_

* * *

Mist clung to the blades of grass and roots of the trees, weaving through the forest like a thick blanket. The soft sound of windchimes tinkled lightly in the air, though no breeze blew. Not a creature stirred the damp earth nor rustled the leaves; it was as if time itself was standing still.

Amarel inhaled deeply, tasting the scent of growth and decay on her tongue. Her skin buzzed with that all too familiar sensation of magic that slipped under and along her arms and blurred the edges of her vision. She was not engulfed in the Fade as she had been in the past, but it had crept into her dreams again, displacing the realms of her subconscious in favor of walking the line between.

Which meant he was here. Watching.

The hairs on the back of Amarel’s neck prickled. She heard a twig snap behind her in the distance and her breath caught. Her fingers began to tremble, and she curled them into tight fists, pressing her nails into her copper skin until the sharp sting of pain brought her back to focus. She didn’t want to turn around; she knew what would happen. The same cycle it always was. He would be there, she’d run to him, and he’d vanish at her fingertips, leaving her crying and alone. Then, she would wake and spend the rest of the sleepless night wondering if it was real. If _he_ was real. 

It had happened too many times over the last month. She couldn’t do it again.

The seconds dragged past, and nothing moved. Amarel tried squeezing her eyes shut, hoping if she opened them again, she’d be in a different place. That the dream would change, even a little. She knew she’d give in, she always had. She couldn’t resist the chance to _try_ every single time.

She heard a rustle and the barest hint of steps drawing a bit closer. Her heart pounded in her chest. Amarel slowly glanced over her shoulder to meet the silver, weighted gaze of the giant wolf whose massive head came up to her shoulders. He was standing ten yards away, staring at her sadly because he knew just as she did the series of events that would follow.

But then why did he come? Why did he invade her sleep only for the same result over and over?

From where he stood, whispers stretched toward her, pressing upon her ears.

_ His honeyed tones drip sweet lies. _

_ Do not trust the Dread Wolf. _

_ You cannot save people from themselves. _

Amarel grit her teeth and ignored the warnings of the Fade. She took one step toward the wolf… then bolted forward. The cool air burned her lungs, and the loam flew out from under her heels as she ran toward the great creature as fast as she could. Just as she reached him, she skidded to a stop and fell to her knees, panting. As she caught her breath, a huff of warm air curled about her pointed ear, sending shivers down her skin.

Amarel froze and lifted her head. For a long moment, she and the wolf stared at each other, nose to nose. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Vhenan…”

Her fingers grasped nothing but mist when she reached for him and the pain that shot through her heart was just as piercing as always. Amarel sucked in a sharp breath and the dream came crashing down around her into nothingness.

_ “I suspect you have questions.” _

_ “You have shown me that there is value in this world, Amarel. I take no joy in what I must do.” _

_ “You don’t have to destroy the world, Solas. I’ll prove it to you!” _

_ “I’d treasure the chance to be wrong again, lethallan.” _

In the time she had resided at the Grand Cathedral, Amarel found that she enjoyed the rooftop view. It was surprisingly comfortable, and as the dawn broke over the horizon, she got to watch the grounds come to life with dozens of people. Priests, templars, brothers and sisters and servants all moved about, as small as ants scurrying to and fro. From her vantage point, no one could see her. She didn’t have to deal with the sideways glances and poorly hidden mutterings about the now ex-Inquisitor, armless and abandoned by all.

It was impressive how the savior of the world could fall so quickly back down to a mere Dalish elf once the titles were removed. The wheel of politics never stopped moving.

“Inquisitor?”

Amarel looked down to see Divine Victoria standing below her on the large balcony. She deftly slipped off the roof edge and maneuvered her way safely to the ground to land by her side.

“You shouldn’t call me by that anymore, Leliana. I’m no longer the Inquisitor.”

Leliana smiled ruefully, “It is a habit that will take me quite a while to break, I’m afraid. Since I’ve known you, you have always been the ‘Herald’ or the ‘Inquisitor’. What else should I call you by?”

“You could try my name? We’re friends, after all. It isn’t such a foreign concept.”

Amarel’s bright smile caused Leliana’s to grow despite herself.

“I will certainly give it a shot.”

She studied the woman in front of her shrewdly. Amarel's strawberry blonde hair was falling out of its usual loose braid and there were dark circles under her green eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep again, I see?”

Amarel shrugged as casually as she could, “Only for a little bit, I’m afraid. I get… plagued by bad dreams.”

“So you have mentioned. Is there any way I can help?”

“Not with this.” Amarel hesitated, “I… I keep seeing him. But I can’t tell whether it’s really him or just my imagination.”

It was a flimsy attempt to pretend. She knew it had to be him. She was not a mage; she could not enter the Fade unless he was there. 

“Every time I get close, he vanishes, and I’m forced awake.”

Leliana’s mouth tightened and she scrutinized the horizon beyond the Cathedral gates.

“I wish I had more information to give you. None of my spies have been able to locate Solas since he took the Anchor from you and vanished. The most I get are more reports of elven servants and slaves vanishing into the wilds.”

“He’s accumulating an army but for what, I couldn’t say,” Amarel sighed, “In taking control of the Eluvians, Solas has gained the ability to travel all over Thedas without anyone seeing him.”

She reached absentmindedly for the stump that remained of her left arm.

“Without the Inquisition, I have no forces, no contacts. I no longer wield a world power.”

“Perhaps not, but you are not powerless,” Leliana replied, “You have made plenty of contacts in your time as the Herald. You can use some of those for leverage.”

She gestured for Amarel to walk with her as she headed back inside the tower.

“I wanted to find you to let you know that Cassandra has returned from the Hunterhorn Mountains for a visit. The last of your soldiers left Skyhold several days ago; the Inquisition is officially disbanded and your role as their leader is no longer needed. Now it is time to turn your focus to the new threat.” 

Amarel winced at the connection between “Solas” and “threat”, but she nodded. Between trying to organize evacuations from Skyhold and the sleepless nights, the last month had felt like a dream rushing by. Now that Leliana said it, the threat of Solas’ plan suddenly loomed over her head like a long shadow she had been ignoring. Even thinking about tackling it wearied her.

Leliana led her to one of the many many doors in the headquarters of the Chantry and gestured for the guard to open it. Inside was a small, simple meeting room with a table commanding the center. Standing next to the window, looking out, was a familiar woman who turned as they entered.

“Most Holy. Inquisitor Lavellan.”

Amarel lit up at the sight of her old companion; it took effort not to go in for a hug. Just seeing a friend lifted the weight sitting on her shoulders, if only for a moment.

“Cas. It’s good to see you.”

The stiff set of Cassandra’s shoulders loosened, and she gave Amarel a rare smile.

“It is good to see you as well. I heard that you were staying here since the gathering at the Winter Palace.”

“Until I can gather my bearings, yes. How are things with the Seekers?”

“More flock to the mountains every day. I am hopeful that we will be able to begin rebuilding with the numbers that have joined. Seeker Lucius did not completely destroy my order.”

She paused, looking uncertain, “How… How are you?”

Amarel almost lied, then she sighed and wrapped an arm around herself.

“I’ve been better. The past month hasn’t been easy.”

“I cannot imagine it has been.” Cassandra walked over to join them at the table, “We were all shocked by the reveal of who Solas was and what his plans now entail.”

Her eyes flashed and her jaw tightened, “After everything we went through together, he chooses to betray us? To let us all burn for the sake of the dead!?”

“Cassandra,” Leliana said quietly.

Cassandra saw how quiet Amarel had become and quickly backtracked.

“Right. I am sorry. It is still a sore spot for me as it seems.”

“It’s a sore spot for us all.”

“Which is why we’re going to stop him,” Amarel replied with conviction, “I will keep him from making this grave mistake.”

Cassandra and Leliana exchanged a look and the former huffed in disapproval.

“I see you’re still on that. Very well, if that is what you wish to do.”

She took a seat and Amarel joined her and Leliana. The three of them like this gave her a sense of deja vu, back when they circled the table at the Winter Palace to discuss the plans for the future. Now all they needed was Scout Harding and it’d be a reunion.

“Do we have any knowledge on how Solas plans to tear down the Veil?” Cassandra asked, “Any idea of his whereabouts?”

“My spies believe as they did when we were at the Winter Palace,” Leliana replied, “Wherever the Dread Wolf goes, whatever he plans to do, Tevinter seems to be the place to look.”

“There are plenty of slaves there who would join with him,” Cassandra muttered.

“And plenty of old magic. I’m sure he cannot tear down the Veil by his power alone.”

“I’ve been scouring books, looking for any clues to help,” Amarel added.

Her neck ached in memory of the hours she had spent hunched over stacks of tomes, “Everything I find is useless Chantry paraphernalia about the Maker… No offense.”

Cassandra snorted and Leliana grinned a little, “None taken.”

“I sent word to the Keeper of my Clan, asking for everything she had on the Dread Wolf and the Veil,” Amarel continued, “But most of what we have are just stories of half-truths. Nothing about how Solas did what he did.”

“So, we’re shooting an arrow blindly.” Cassandra’s tone was dry, “That never goes well.”

“What we need is someone on the inside,” Leliana mused, “An elf who can feed us information on Solas’ plans, or at least his whereabouts.”

Cassandra scoffed, “And where do you propose we find such an individual? We cannot use any of your people. Solas knows their tactics.”

There was a pause as all three of them pondered the question. Amarel came up with an idea first.

“What about one of Sera’s people? A friend of Red Jenny?”

“One of Sera’s? But those are just people,” Leliana replied, “They have no training in subversion of secrecy. Most of them are only playing pranks.”

“That we know of. And you’re right, they’re just people. Villagers and servants and slaves. Exactly who Solas is calling to.” Amarel was really warming up to the idea now, “Sera has been unifying the Red Jenny’s into a more cohesive force lately. I bet she’d have someone in mind.”

Cassandra appeared unconvinced but Leliana was mulling it over.

“He certainly wouldn’t expect it. And we’re low on options. But it would be dangerous. Sera needs to know exactly what she’s getting her person into.”

“I’ll make it clear when I write to her,” Amarel replied, “If we can at least get someone inside, we’ll have an idea of what we’re dealing with.”

Cassandra sighed, “If desperation is the route we’re taking, the news I have will sound ideal.”

She rested her arms on the table and folded her hands.

“When we last met up, you told us that we would need new people to counter Solas’ expectations. I made inquiries to my extended family in Nevarra and one of them has taken an interest in our endeavor.”

Amarel leaned forward in interest and Leliana looked shocked.

“You reached out to your family in Nevarra? On purpose?”

“To my  _ extended _ family. We need new allies. While most of them are pampered and pompous, there are enough Pentaghasts that at least one of them had to be worth something.”

She extracted an elegantly sealed envelope and slid it across to Amarel. Inside was an invitation that she had to read several times before comprehending.

“You are cordially invited to have tea with Valdus Pentaghast in the Magi District of Cumberland, Nevarra?”

She stared incredulously at Cassandra, who rolled her eyes.

“It is incredibly like royal Nevarrans to do something like this, I assure you. Valdus is some second cousin of mine. Rumor has it, he was recently removed from his position as an apprentice to a Mortalitasi. I cannot imagine what he did, but he has offered his assistance.”

Amarel glanced down at the invitation again. On it was a location, likely this Valdus’ home.

“Do you think he really means it?” Leliana was asking, “A rich, bored nobleman is not really my idea of an invaluable asset.”

“Do you have another option?” Cassandra retorted bluntly, “If a Nevarran puts their mind to something, they will do it. I can guarantee you, Solas will not be expecting someone quite like this.”

They both surveyed the elven woman studying the Pentaghast crest.

“It’s your choice, Amarel,” Leliana said, “We will let you make the call.”

Amarel chewed on the inside of her lip, her gaze flickering across the invitation once again. Finally, she slipped it back into the envelope and tucked it into her jacket.

“I’ll go see him. It can’t hurt to hear what he has to say. And you’re right, we do need new allies.”

Cassandra seemed the slightest bit pleased, “Very well. I’ll inform him you have accepted his request and escort you to the Nevarran border myself.”

“No, Cas. I’ll do it alone.”

Before the Seeker could object, Amarel shook her head, “It’s better if I remain hidden as much as possible. I imagine Solas is keeping an eye on us all; if he sees us traveling together, he’ll know something is up. I’ll go on the road and keep my head down.”

“That is the wisest choice,” Leliana added and Cassandra huffed.

“Very well. In that case, I will give you an overview of what to expect when entering Nevarra. It is a superficial, flighty place.”

Amarel smiled, “Thank you, Cas.”

“While Cassandra preps you for heading north, I will make some inquiries of my own,” Leliana said, “I have an idea of a group I may be able to get you a contract with. An old acquaintance of mine owes me a favor.”

She said no more, but the sly tone and devious glint to her blue eyes spoke volumes. Amarel decided not to ask.

“I appreciate what the both of you are doing to help me with this,” She said softly, “I know you don’t agree with my goal but… thank you.”

The once Right and Left Hands of the previous Divine gazed at their friend fondly.

“Of course we will help you. You have helped us in numerous ways, not to mention saving the world several times,” Leliana said.

“And Solas, regardless of my disgust for him, was once our friend, too,” Cassandra added, “If there is a chance you can change his mind… Perhaps I will stay my sword arm when I see him again.”

That made Amarel laugh a little. Leliana stood and walked over to her, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

“You are carrying the weight of saving our world on your shoulders once again. And this time, it is a battle that no one seems to know you are waging. A silent war is not easy. We shall do all that we can to ease the burden before you strike out on your own.”

Amarel’s heart swelled in gratitude and it sparkled in her eyes. Leliana smiled and patted her shoulder before exiting the room.

Cassandra stood and beckoned to Amarel crisply, “Come, let us find some sort of training dummy. If we are going to have to talk about my home country, I’m going to need to hit something.”

_ Thunk! _

The point of the dagger buried itself in the crude shoulder of the straw and burlap dummy. Amarel sighed in annoyance and walked forward to retrieve it. She had to resist the urge to reach toward it with her nonexistent left hand. Adjusting to only one arm had had its moments. In some ways, she had adapted surprisingly well. But when it came to combat it was a struggle. Losing the ability to use a bow was like losing a piece of herself; without it she felt naked and useless.

Just as she finished tugging the blade free, the crystal point strung around her neck warmed against her skin. A bright grin spread across Amarel’s face and she quickly reached for it. Her fingers brushed against the teeth of the jawbone necklace also resting there, but she did her best to ignore it. The parting gift Solas had left her with.

She tugged the crystal free of her shirt and cupped it in her palm to accept the call. Within seconds, the delightful dancing voice reached her ears.

“And how _is_ the sunset looking way down in the south? I must say it is a spectacular sight up here. Those orange hues really do wonders with my outfit I have planned for this evening.”

Amarel laughed and swung herself up onto the dummy, balancing precariously on it as she answered.

“I don’t really have a good view of it this time. The cathedral walls cut everything off with their blinding color scheme. This much white is overwhelming.”

“Dreadfully dull, I must say,” Dorian’s warm tone filled her chest with a bubble of happiness, “No wonder they put everyone off. Besides the terror of the templars, how are you on this check-in, emma lath?”

“I’m doing alright as always.”

“Are you really? Because you sounded awfully exhausted when I heard from you last week, and I can’t say you sound any better now.” Dorian’s chastising was reminiscent of a mother hen, “Though I must admit, there is a new note of energy coloring your gorgeous voice.”

“You read me too well as always, lethallin.”

“It’s one of my many charming quirks. Did something happen?”

Amarel exhaled and rested her chin on top of the dummy, “Sort of. Leliana, Cas and I are finally making a plan to try and find Solas. Or at least prepare for him.”

“I see,” Dorian responded slowly, “And how are we feeling about that?”

It took Amarel a moment to reply, “I… wish I knew. I want to save Solas. I want it so badly it’s an ache I feel in my soul. But I don’t know how to go about it. I know that if I could just see him, talk to him…”

“And you’re certain he’s willing to listen? That he has any interest in changing his mind at all?”

“He wouldn’t have given me the option if he didn’t. If you had heard him, you’d know what I’m talking about. He sounded so _sad_ , Dorian.”

Even as she said it, Amarel’s heart hurt. The pain she had seen on his face still haunted her.

“He kept saying that he wished he didn’t have to do this. When I told him I’d prove to him this world deserves its chance, he said he hoped I would. I know I can convince him.”

Dorian sighed in resignation, “I know you will try, Amarel. If there is anyone who could talk some sense into his shiny bald skull, you could. He loves you desperately.”

The two best friends sat in silence for a moment, each with their own thoughts. Amarel finally spoke.

“Besides my tales of woe, how has Tevinter been? Causing any more trouble?”

“You wound me! I only cause trouble when trouble is due. It’s not my fault that it’s due all the time around here,” Dorian chuckled, “Things have been a tug-of-war as usual. Every time we take one step forward, we get pushed a step back on another front.”

He huffed, “I think my colleagues and I would make a lot more progress if these attacks from the Qunari weren’t so intense. I’m afraid Bull was right; we really hadn’t seen them at their fighting fittest.”

Amarel frowned sympathetically at the crystal as if Dorian could see her, “Is it that bad?”

“Not quite, but it’s getting there. I don’t mean to boast of my country, but despite Tevinter being terrible, it is the only thing keeping the Qunari from invading the south. We could use some help. But of course, we won’t ask and none of the other countries will offer.”

“I’m sorry, Dorian. If I still had any say in politics, I would make a push for Orlais or Fereldan to assist Tevinter in this.”

“I know you would, emma lath.” She could hear the smile in Dorian’s voice, “And what I wouldn’t give to see you tearing into them once again. But believe me, the sooner you escape the games of the nobility, the better.”

Amarel smiled in reply, “I can’t say I miss going around in circles with them all.”

She hopped off the dummy and ascended the steps toward her guest quarters as Dorian continued speaking.

“May I ask what your plans are for catching up to our own Dread Wolf? He’s got quite the upper hand on us.”

“That’s why I want to turn the tables on him. I plan on gathering new comrades and we’re hoping Sera can provide a spy in his ranks. I sent her a message this afternoon.”

“Ah, so you really are beginning your fight, aren’t you? I wish I were there with you to help, Amarel. It pains me to think of you going this alone.”

Amarel squeezed the crystal gently, hoping Dorian could feel the comfort she was sending through.

“I wish you were here too, lethallin. Don’t worry, I’ll be as safe as I can.”

“Mm, I doubt it. But I’ll relish the false promise for now.”

The noise of indignance Amarel made caused Dorian to snicker.

“I suppose my timing on your present was superb, then. That will have to suffice as my support.”

By this time, Amarel had made it to her door and she stopped to wrinkle her brow in confusion, “What present?”

“You’ll see~ Just expect a package any day now. My little gift to you.”

“You’re incorrigible, Dorian Pavus.”

“I _know_ , isn’t it wonderful?”

“Speaking of wonderful, have you seen Bull lately…?”

Their banter and conversation continued as Amarel entered her room, the door swinging shut behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello reader,  
> Thanks to my wonderful sibling's spark of inspiration and a spur of the moment impulse, I decided to write a full length Dragon Age story following the events of DAI: Trespasser. And dammit, if I didn't do it.
> 
> This is a Dragon Age 4 speculative work and a Solavellan hell romance. I did my best to touch on the emerging issues from the other games. I will be honest: The original creators of the DA games had a plan to make 5 total games and I followed that plan. This is NOT the "final" Dragon Age. There will be one more story after this one. Maybe I'll write it some day.
> 
> I'll be posting new chapters every Tuesday around noon. I hope you enjoy the journey! I had a lot of fun writing this ridiculous thing.


	2. Armed

“Miss Lavellan? Miss Lavellan!”

Amarel was wrenched from the pages she was perusing at the sound of the call. A courier approached her table, stopped, then after a moment of floundering, gave her a little jerky bow. It was sufficiently awkward.

“Can I help you?”

“You have several deliveries, Miss.”

He reached into his pouch and extracted one parcel and one hastily folded up letter to give to her. Amarel took both gratefully.

“Thank you.”

“Er… yes, Miss Lavellan. Maker ble– I mean… have a nice day.”

Before the courier could leave, Amarel stopped him.

“One moment. Could you please go inform the Divine that I wish to speak with her? I’ll be in my quarters.”

He turned a little pale, but nodded and ran off. Amarel replaced the book on Shartan and Andraste that she was reading with some reluctance; she had enjoyed the moment of peace to delve into history.

With her packages shoved against her ribs to keep hold of them, she headed to her room and tossed them on the bed to open each. She didn’t need a signature on the letter to know who it was from. It was bound with a red string and scribbled in a nonsense language that she knew well.

_A pack of anythin’ makes a lotta sound when it moves._

_Jenny’s got a friend in the Imp. Nasty noble arse wiper who’s sick of it. She can play the elfy game._

_Better look sharp if you want to see what she says when she says it._

Amarel breathed a sigh of relief and carefully re-folded the letter.

“Thank you, Sera,” She murmured, “I knew you’d have someone up your sleeve.”

The parcel was immaculately wrapped and addressed to her in a flourishing script. Amarel took the little slip out of the binding and unfolded it. Inside were only two words.

_Call Dorian~_

She rolled her eyes in exasperation and pulled the sending crystal free from her shirt once again.

All it took was the desire to speak to him while holding it. The crystal warmed and not long after, Dorian’s voice filled her room.

“Back again so soon? I truly must be irresistible.”

“You flatter yourself.” Amarel let the crystal hang down while she tugged at the wrappings, “I got your package and it told me to contact you.”

“Oh, wonderful! I was hoping you’d get it soon. Have you opened it yet?”

“I’m working on it now.”

Amarel finally got the bindings pulled loose and wiggled the lid of the ornate, wooden box open. The inside was lined with a thick, blue velvet. Nestled within the folds was a dark leather cuff. It was intricately carved with symbols she didn’t recognize, and sitting in the center were woven green beads in a thick, tree-like design. A thin, silver metal surrounded it. Amarel delicately picked it up to admire it in the light.

“Alright, I see the cuff. It’s gorgeous, Dorian, but what is it?”

“It’s my gift to you. It took myself and several of my most talented coworkers to get this right, you know. I’ve been working on it ever since I got home. Strap it to your left arm, it should fit snugly around the bicep with the clasps.”

It took a bit of fiddling and maneuvering for Amarel to fit the band until the sleeve of her shirt and onto her arm. Per Dorian’s instruction, she centered the beads on the inside and situated it so that it was close to the bottom of her bicep. Looking at the scarred stump still made her feel slightly sick.

“It’s about as good as I’m going to get it without it slipping off. Now what?”

“I don’t know if you could tell, but the band is enchanted,” Dorian explained eagerly, “Quite heavily, I must say. No healing knowledge we have will ever be able to return your arm to you, Amarel. But we do have ways to give you a substitute.”

Amarel gazed down at the band as Dorian continued.

“Before I continue, I must ask: Does the phrase ‘May the Dread Wolf take you’ sound like something you’d ever say in passing again?”

It was such a bizarre question that Amarel had to laugh bitterly, “I doubt it. What is this about, Dorian?”

“I want you to say that phrase for me, please. In Elvish, if you know how. And when you do, try to remember what it was like having your arm; seeing it move, using it, etcetera.”

It didn’t take Amarel but a moment to recall such things.

“Fen’Harel… ma ver nuva.”

The beads on the band began to brighten and grow warm. A sudden burning sensation seared through her skin and Amarel yelped in surprise. The flare of pain nearly made her rip it off, but it diminished as quickly as it had come. As she watched, green wisps of the Fade pulled themselves from the intangible fabric of the Veil and collected around the band, fashioning themselves into a translucent green arm. A wave of tingles swept through Amarel’s nerves, all the way from her shoulder through the arm to the tips of the fingers that she could actually _feel_.

“Dorian…”

Dorian was grinning, she could hear it when he spoke.

“What do you think?”

The Fade had stopped whispering now. Amarel lifted the arm up and flexed the fingers, which responded without hesitation. It was almost like the phantom sensations she had been experiencing, but much more solid. Yet it was not quite the same as having the actual body part.

“Can… Can I…?”

“Touch things? Yes, you can. It will function as your arm once did. Whenever you wish to summon the arm, you will use that phrase. To dismiss it, say ‘benefaria’. Got it?”

Amarel nodded numbly, forgetting that Dorian couldn’t see her. She made a few more motions with the arm, unsure if she was dreaming.

“Dorian this is… wonderful. Beyond wonderful. I can’t begin to express–”

“There’s no need, emma lath.” Dorian sounded both warm and serious, “I couldn’t have you wandering around armless. Besides, you’ll need it if you are to face Solas.”

Amarel’s gaze slid to the bow that had been sitting forlorn on top of her desk. She approached it and hesitantly reached out; her fingers curled around the worn grip and tightened. She could feel the press of the leather and wood, as smooth and as inviting as ever. Tears stung her eyes.

“Thank you, Dorian. Thank you so much.”

“Of course. Now, a small word of caution: The Fade is drawing from the magic of the armband, but if you push it for long periods of time, you may feel a bit weary. Just don’t overexert yourself.”

“I won’t, I promise.” Amarel dashed the moisture from her eyes and picked up the crystal to rest her forehead to it, “I owe you, lethallin. Big time.”

“You can repay me by staying safe. And maybe finding some more of that spiced wine the Orlesians keep locked away. That truly was some excellent fare.”

Amarel giggled, “I think we can arrange that.”

There was a knock on her door and she heard Leliana speak.

“Amarel? You said you wanted to see me.”

“It sounds like you’re being called away,” Dorian said, “On your way then. Back to saving the world.”

“After this, I’m retiring from the job. Someone else can do it.”

Dorian chuckled, “No one will want to. Vitae benefaria.”

“Dareth shiral, Dorian.”

The crystal stopped emanating light. Amarel tucked it back in its place and lifted her voice.

“I’m here, Leliana. Come in.”

The Divine swept in as silently as ever. It took her a moment to register the difference in the elven woman standing before her and a rare look of shock crossed her face.

“You have an arm!?”

Amarel extended it out, still holding on to her bow, “I do now. A gift from Dorian so I can get back to what I’m best at.”

She stared down at the weapon. The embers of resolve that once burned in her chest were beginning to rekindle.

“Since Solas revealed his plans to me in the Crossroads, my drive to save him has been doused by the overwhelming realization of how over my head I am. He has the numbers, the Eluvians and veteran knowledge to win this war with ease.”

Her eyes shifted to meet Leliana’s, vibrant with life once again.

“But I won’t go down without a fight. I will remind him how real this world is and if he doesn’t listen to me, at least I’ll make the decision hurt.”

Leliana inclined her head, looking incredibly pleased, “That sounds more like you. I’m glad to see you’ve recovered your strength.”

She folded her hands into the wide sleeves of her gown, “I have more good news. My inquiries bore some success, and the Antivan Crows have accepted the request to help.”

“The Antivan Crows? The infamous assassin’s guild?”

“The very same. One of their members owes me and I’ve called in that debt. However, there is a small catch: If you want their help, you will have to travel to Antiva City. It is the safest way to avoid detection.”

Amarel was already moving to her pack and grabbing it, “Then that’s where I’ll go after Cumberland. Is Cas still here?”

“She is, she wanted to see you off before she left. While you pack, I will gather a new set of armor for you. You will want to travel covertly, so we will shed the fineries and prowler coats in exchange for something… shall we say, more my style.”

With a wink, Leliana left Amarel to gather the things she needed. It didn’t take long; she didn’t have much with her. After she closed the packed knapsack, Amarel eagerly slung her quiver over her shoulder. Now that she had two arms again, she needed to remind her muscles what it was like to shoot with a bow and arrow. 

And she had time to kill. Pun mostly intended.

For the rest of that afternoon and until the sun set, Amarel was in the training yard, firing off shot after shot. She only stopped once to talk to Cassandra about the turn of events. By the time it was too dark to see, she was sweaty and exhausted, but elated. It hadn’t taken her too long to adapt to using the spirit arm, and her aim was as true as ever.

There was only one more thing to do before rest.

An hour later found Amarel sitting upright in her bed with her legs crossed. She let out a long, measured breath and settled herself more comfortably against the headboard, taking a few minutes to ground herself. Once she felt that she was ready, she reached into her mind and spoke aloud.

“Well of Sorrows, I need your help.”

The familiar, inaudible elven whispers came alive at her call. Her physical senses became fogged.

“Please, I need to know how the Dread Wolf will tear down the Veil. Do you know how he did it before?”

The sounds of the Well grew muffled and nothing came to mind. Amarel tried again.

“What are his goals? How can I save him?”

Still nothing. The Well became even quieter and after another minute, she gave up and opened her eyes. Ever since the Winter Palace, the Well had been fruitless in her attempts to try and discern Solas’ moves. Amarel wasn’t sure why; her best guess was that in losing the Anchor, she had lost the strong connection she had with it. No matter how many questions she asked, she couldn’t get a concrete answer. 

Either way, it offered no help. Frustrated, but still buzzing with the upcoming quests, Amarel settled into an uneasy sleep.

The morning dawned silently, with a blanket of fog across the Orlais landscape that the rising sun turned into a sea of pinks and golds. Amarel rose before the eastern sky lightened and donned the armor Leliana sent to her. It was much lighter, like the Dalish apparel she once wore; though nothing quite resembled the beautiful apparel that her Clan crafted. She pulled a new, dark green shawl over it all and glanced in the mirror one last time. It wasn’t like anything she used during the Inquisition. With her hood on, her features would be well hidden.

It would have to be enough to avoid suspicion. At least for now.

Cassandra and Leliana met her one last time at the top of the steps leading to the courtyard below. Amarel embraced them both with a soft smile.

“Take care of yourself,” Leliana said when she pulled away, “And if you need anything, don’t hesitate. You may have to fight this on your own, but we’re here for you.”

“Yes, with sword and shield at the ready,” Cassandra added, “I’ll take the risk of Solas predicting our movements for your safety.”

Amarel shouldered her pack and tightened the strap of her quiver with a nod, “I’ll be careful. And whatever happens, I’ll do my best to keep you informed. Thank you, both of you. For everything you’ve done.”

She tugged the hood more securely over her head and headed down the steps to the covered cart waiting at the bottom.

They had all decided it would be best for Amarel to hide amongst the supplies the templars were taking to nearby churches, to avoid anyone noticing her leave. She spent the rest of the morning under a tarp, squished between several crates in an uncomfortable position while the wheels jostled and bumped their way down the Imperial Highway.

It took a week on foot to get to Cumberland. The crossing from Orlais into Nevarran territory was smooth and almost forgettable. Despite its tedious past relations with Orlais, Amarel barely saw any guards on her trek through the gradually more hilly region. She did her best to keep to the forests and avoided the main roads in favor of following the coastline of the Waking Sea. True to expectation, she saw very few people, and those she did catch a glimpse of were traveling the Imperial Highway. None of them noticed her.

She spent her third night sheltering in the Temple of Dirthamen, the lost ruins she had explored once years ago. That night, she dreamed of the Dread Wolf once more. This time, Amarel didn’t turn around; instead she stubbornly faced forward and resisted every urge to look behind. She listened to him draw closer and let the seconds pass into minutes before she spoke.

“If you think I’ve given up on you, I haven’t.”

There was no response, but she knew he was listening.

“I will come after you. We can restore the glory of the Elvhen, but not like this. Not by fire.”

She whipped around to see the wolf even closer than before, still watching her levelly.

“I won’t let you do this alone. I will not _leave_ you alone, Solas. Not now, not ever.”

Even from a distance, she could see the startled look in the wolf’s eyes. Amarel advanced on him and he stepped back in haste. The dream turned to white and crashed down on her.

She awoke with a smile lingering on her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terrible with puns. This is a shorter chapter, so I'll be posting again on Friday!  
> As always, thank you for reading


	3. The Necromancer & Purpose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up, this is a long one. Enjoy!

Cumberland was a port city that sat near the foothills of the Vimmark Mountains. Amarel had now seen several cities in her lifetime, but nothing could quite prepare her for the sprawling metropolis that met her eyes when she crested the final hill. She stared, flabbergasted at the size for some time before beginning her trek down to the front gate.

The outside of the city appeared intimidating, but the interior was even more so. Countless cobblestone streets and courtyards spread out in a labyrinth lined with beautiful, towering golden statues. Several of them had individuals dressed in the same outfit as the statue at the base, mimicking prop-less scenes that Amarel did not recognize. In the background, no matter what angle she was at, a golden spiral dome enclosed by an elaborate building could be seen. From the lower districts to the upper neighborhoods that were sectioned off by walls, everyone was dressed in finery far beyond what Amarel usually saw.

She felt incredibly out of place. And she looked out of place as well; several people gave her looks as she passed and the guards watched her unforgivingly as she loitered around the entrances to the wealthy segments of the city. The invitation - which seemed incredibly silly to Amarel at the time - was a lifesaver now. When she finally found the right district and showed them the crest, one of the guards escorted her without too much complaint to a grandiose, three-story house. It stretched over her intimidatingly as she approached.

“Right,” The guard said after Amarel knocked on the large black door, “Hand over your weapons.”

Amarel blinked at her, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Your weapons. Visitors aren’t allowed to carry them while roaming about.”

The guard stuck out her gloved palm and Amarel instinctively shied away.

“I don’t… feel comfortable with that.”

“That’s too bad. Neither you nor inhabitants of this city are allowed to carry arms while in the districts.”

It wasn’t an unfair request but Amarel was still hesitant.

“I… alright.”

As she was unbuckling her bow, the door to the house abruptly swung open. For a moment, she, the guard and the tall person standing in the entrance stared at each other in surprised silence. Then, a broad smile spread across the stranger’s face.

“Ah, a scrappy looking creature coming to my door? You must be the famous ex-Inquisitor.”

Amarel winced. From out of the corner of her eye, she saw the guard give her another, much more intrigued look.

“What’s going on here?” The scarecrow of a man continued, “Why are you grasping at my guest?”

He directed his question at the guard, who respectfully saluted.

“My apologies, Lord Pentaghast. I was informing the… Inquisitor that she could not carry weapons in this establishment.”

“ _Well_ , you should have told her that before you brought her in, hm? I could care less about her weapons, she may keep them.”

A sigh escaped from the guard’s helmet, but she seemed to know better than not argue. She merely bowed and headed back to her post.

The Lord Pentaghast swung the door open wide, beckoning rapidly to Amarel.

“Come in, come in! Andraste above, you’re letting a draft in standing there.”

The light grey eyes glittered at her and Amarel couldn’t tell if he was impatient or eager. She carefully crossed the threshold into the dim foyer and the door was pulled shut behind her with a bang that echoed through the vaulted ceiling.

“You are Valdus Pentaghast, I take it?”

The young man slid several locks across the door and whirled around with a manic energy that caused Amarel to take a step back. 

“Yes, that is me. And your name escapes me, I’m afraid? I didn’t really look at it.”

“It’s Amarel of Clan Lavellan.”

“Mm, I remembered hearing you were Dalish…” Valdus peered at her with formidable curiosity, “But I don’t see those tattoos of yours? Did you somehow remove them? Does your Clan not use them? They are of cultural significance are they not?”

The rapid-fire questions left Amarel feeling like she had just been bowled over. She stared back at him for a second before responding.

“Um… Yes, we do use them, and yes?”

Valdus brightened, “ _Fascinating_.”

He clapped his hands together and took a gigantic step back to let Amarel breathe.

“Well! There’s no sense in wasting time with small talk. My dear, uh… cousin! Yes, that’s the one. My cousin said you needed some assistance with saving the world yet again?”

“Something of a sort–”

“Then let’s discuss the pleasantries and my fee.”

Valdus strode off down the hallway, once again waving for Amarel to follow. His pale skin stood out like a ghost in the gloom of the poorly lit interior. Amarel touched the edge of her bow for reassurance and followed, calling after him.

“I was never made aware of a fee for this deal. I don’t have money on me.”

“Nonsense, I’m not talking about _coin_ , Dalish. I have plenty of that. Do you know my family name? Have you seen my living situation?”

Amarel cast a glance at the shapes of couches and chairs and portraits. Every room they passed was scattered with random items and so dark it was hard to see any details.

“Barely,” She muttered.

“Of course, this is tiny, pitiful even in comparison to most estates,” Valdus continued, “But it suits my needs as a college student. Well, an ex-college student.”

“Cassandra mentioned something about that.” Amarel moved quickly to catch up with his long legs, “You were an apprentice?”

“Yes, an apprentice to a Mortalitasi. That has nothing to do with the College,” Valdus scoffed, “Both places have removed me due to my… shall we say, thought-provoking ideals. The College wrinkles its nose at active, public necromancy practices and my mentor didn’t like my vision for our delightful dead.”

He led Amarel down a flight of stairs to the stone basement. Her steps slowed as she saw the room they had entered; skeletons of various animals and people were scattered across tables, and circles of magic were burned into portions of the wood. Notes were tacked up and tossed all over the place in scribbles she couldn’t read.

“Oh! Goodness, where are my manners?” Valdus snapped his fingers and raised his voice, “Emel!”

A sensation spread through Amarel’s bones like fur rubbed the wrong way. A chattering filled the air and a suit of robes and gold plated finery standing in the corner seemed to breathe with life. The skull of the skeleton dressed in the clothes burst into flames the color of Veilfire. Amarel watched in amazement as the animated undead stepped forward with a creak of armor and looked at the both of them.

“Don’t just stand there with your jack slack!” Valdus said and Amarel quickly shut her mouth before she realized that he wasn’t talking to her, “Make your introductions and then clean up a bit, would you? This place is a mess…”

The skeleton stepped forward and took the gold, pirate-like hat off of the flaming head to bow. Amarel nearly jumped out of her skin when a soft, sibilant sigh emanated from the teeth, forming clear speech.

“ _A pleasure… to meet you._ ” Despite how quietly it spoke, it reverberated in her ears, “ _I am called Emel._ ”

Amarel was already burning with interest, but she bowed back, “The pleasure is mine. My name is Amarel.”

Emel straightened up and wordlessly moved toward the tables. Valdus was watching their interaction eagerly; he was bouncing on the balls of his feet when Amarel turned to him.

“Ooh, I see you have questions,” He trilled, “I like a good curiosity. Go on, go on, what are you thinking?”

“Several things,” Amarel replied.

She cast a glance back at the skeleton, “You’ll have to forgive my lack of knowledge, but I thought animated skeletons couldn’t speak?”

“They can’t, not usually. Emel is the one and only product of my wonderful ideas. It is a spirit inside a body, willingly bound in such a way that it can continue to exude it’s own personality.”

He exhaled, having babbled the whole thing out in a rush, “Took me fucking ages to get the ritual right.”

“So, Emel is a spirit who can move about in this realm?”

“Yes, uncorrupted as well! Or, rather, as uncorrupted as a spirit can get having stepped into our messy world. I had intended to allow several spirits who were interested to try - one per day you know - but I had made friends with this one and it so enjoyed moving around like this that I… unprofessionally allowed it to stay for good.”

Amarel watched Emel stacking papers, “They like being confined? I thought most spirits hated it.”

“Well, without some sort of binding to something, many spirits get corrupted, do they not? Like I said, this was a creation all my own. I can only rely on Emel’s accounts to know how comfortable the body is and what its limits are. If it ever felt constrained or unhappy, I’d return it to the Fade.”

Valdus gestured toward the skeleton, “Go ahead, speak to it if you’d like! I promise, there has been no calibrating of its mind, it isn’t being forced in any way to continue to live like this. We are a symbiosis relationship of experimentation and trust.”

Amarel approached the skeleton, watching it swiftly organize the table. It turned its head toward her as she drew near.

“ _May I help you?_ ”

“I was just a bit curious about how you are in this?” Amarel asked, “Valdus said you chose to take this form.”

Emel faced her and although it could not smile, Amarel got the feeling it was.

“ _I did, yes. Valdus has often come to the Fade, seeking to learn about the Beyond. I gave him purpose, showed him to those who could teach what I could not. When he crafted this body, I offered to try it._ ”

“And you still like it?”

“ _It is… tight at times. Odd and clunky._ ” Emel held out a skeletal hand for both of them to look at, “ _But I can see this world while like this. It is a home and place of safety. Valdus bound me as carefully as he could so as to not corrupt my identity. In this, I can help his purpose continue._ ”

Amarel could hear the hints of excitement even through the hissing monotone, and it made her smile.

“If that’s the case, then I’m happy for you. I can’t say I’ve met anyone quite like you two, and I knew a spirit of Compassion who took to this world as well.”

She gestured to the mess, “Do you have to clean this up? You’re not a servant, are you?”

Emel snickered. The sound was hair raising, but didn’t seem malicious.

“ _No. But Valdus seems to think so at times. I will only do things he asks of me if I feel like it._ ”

“And most of the time, it doesn’t,” Valdus called from the back, blatantly eavesdropping on their conversation.

Amarel turned back to the necromancer, leaving Emel to continue its work.

“How long does the spell last? Is it permanent?”

“It is, yes.” Valdus started walking down the narrow hallway on the other side of the room, “Until Emel is no longer happy, it will stay in the body. It can fight, think, strategize, joke… It is a person, just like any of us.”

She followed him, “Yet, you call Emel ‘it’?”

Valdus rolled his eyes at her, “You don’t think I haven’t tried other pronouns? Emel doesn’t want any of them, it promptly ignored me every time I tried. So don’t give me that look, Dalish. Emel prefers ‘it’.”

“I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to offend–”

“It’s fine. Honestly, your willingness to fight for Emel’s humanity is refreshing.”

He opened the door to a study room at the end of the hall and let Amarel in first.

“So,” Valdus said once they were both inside, “About that fee.”

He sat down in the large, cushioned chair behind the desk that was in front of her and folded his hands together on the polished wood. Amarel was reminded momentarily of Cassandra.

“Like I said, I could care less about money. Instead, I’d like to use you.”

Amarel frowned at him and Valdus snickered.

“Don’t act like you’ve never been used before in your life. You were the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste! Nobles used you and your title all of the time. I only wish to do the same.”

He pulled his straight, black hair out from its ponytail and leaned back in his chair with a long, weary sigh.

“My colleagues at the College are hosting a party at one of the large houses around here tonight. I won’t bother you with family names and all of that. The point is, I’ve been invited as a last minute type of situation. They see me as an outcast, it is only due to the respect of my family name that they include me.”

Valdus rolled his light colored eyes, “It’s nauseating. If I am to go and present both myself and my ideas, I wish to have respectability with me. Their sneers will be halted if it is seen that the youngest of Tythas Pentaghast’s children has such high ranking friends.”

He inclined his head at her, “Despite your step down from such power, that is.”

“So… you want me to go with you?”

“Precisely. As a friend, I assure you. An associate. I’ve heard of your skills at the Game with the Orlesians. I promise you this is no different, easier even. It’s just a college party.”

“If you don’t want to go, why don’t you decline?”

“I can’t do that. Oh trust me, I want to, but as a Pentaghast, I can’t turn down an invitation because ‘I don’t feel like it’. They’ve snubbed me, but not my family name. It would only give them further reason to view me as worthless.”

Amarel hesitated, thinking it over. If she was honest, she didn’t want to have to entertain nobles yet again. And there was one other thing staying her answer.

“While I do need your help and I’m reluctantly willing to play the political game, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“And why not?”

“I’m trying to keep a low profile about my movements; where I am, who I’m talking to. This whole saving the world thing that you’re interested in helping with requires keeping a certain amount of autonomy.”

“I see.” Valdus didn’t seem angry at her refusal, but curious instead, “And might I inquire as to why?”

This was not exactly how Amarel hoped to get into the discussion of her quest, but she had decided when she began that she wouldn’t keep secrets. If she was going to gather a small group of new recruits, it was important that they knew what she did.

“Because I have a complicated history with the person who is the cause of said threat. He knows I’m trying to stop him, so his agents are on the lookout for me. If I want to have a chance to move against him, I need to keep my head down.”

Valdus nodded, pondering this information, “I see… that does make things difficult. Now I understand your flinching when I mentioned your previous title to the guard.”

He ran a hand through his now freed hair, the straight locks waterfalling through his fingers.

“Well, I suppose if I cannot gain from your popularity, perhaps I can use your weapons skills.”

A well manicured finger pointed at the bow fastened to Amarel’s back, “There are equal legends about your fighting abilities. You carry that even though you lack an arm, so something tells me you are still able to use it?”

When Amarel nodded, he seemed pleased again, “Good. Then I have another idea.”

Valdus stood and moved to the cluttered bookshelf to the right. He rummaged about a bit and extracted a fistful of arrows from a hastily wrapped up bundle.

“Here.”

Amarel took them and examined one. They were short and black, and the heads were unusually small and dull. But they seemed as if they would fly straight enough.

“If you expect me to kill someone–”

“No no, no such thing. These are harmless.”

Valdus returned to his seat, speaking as he did, “I’ll be expected to present my research ideas to those there, as a source of mockery no doubt. After all, I no longer attend school. I want you to shoot those at the feet of whoever starts poking fun at me and my endeavors.”

The idea sounded ludicrous to Amarel, but it was probably the best compromise she’d get. She slipped them into her quiver.

“Alright, I can do that.”

“Wonderful! Later, I shall show you the location to sit at while you fire those things. You can climb, I assume.”

Amarel inched closer to the desk, her curiosity growing again.

“May I… ask what you did to get kicked out of both places? Cassandra only said it was a scandal.”

The clunk of boots came toward them as Emel approached, snickering again.

“ _He couldn’t keep his mouth shut is why._ ”

“Shut up,” Valdus grumbled, “It wasn’t supposed to be a damn crime to express my thoughts.”

He saw Amarel waiting patiently and heaved a big sigh.

“Fine. To sum it up, I annoyed too many of the wrong instructors at the College. The fact that necromancy is so obviously practiced in Nevarra is… I don’t know, to be seen but not acknowledged?”

The annoyance in Valdus’ voice grew, “It’s preposterous that the Circle here would hold such expectations. I was asked to leave after dabbling too much in the practices of the undead.”

“ _Perhaps they had a problem with the amount of bones you kept leaving everywhere._ ”

“I had to study them! It’s not my fault the mages were so squirrely.”

“ _It is your fault that you make such a mess._ ”

Amarel smiled at their bickering, “That was the College. What about your apprenticeship?”

At that, Valdus seemed to deflate a little.

“That was simply because I put my trust in the wrong person,” He murmured. 

Amarel immediately backtracked, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry–”

“No, it’s perfectly alright.”

Valdus stared at the desk for a moment before speaking.

“The Mortalitasi believe that when someone dies, their soul displaces a spirit as it passes into the Fade. We offer that spirit a new place to dwell by mummifying the body that remained behind. Normally the spirit simply dwells. Or, animated ones can guard tombs as per instructions. But never has it been suggested that such a spirit be able to use the body to begin its own life.”

He gestured to Emel, “It’s reusing the vessel for those beings who want so desperately to come to our side of the Veil! There’s nothing wrong with that. Or so I thought. When I presented my notes to my mentor after he told me I could never do it… I thought he’d be pleased. Instead, he flew into a rage about how I had disrespected the art form of burial, how I used death as a tool and disgraced it.”

Amarel’s brow was furrowed in sympathy, “I’m sorry, Valdus. To be rejected by someone you looked up to… That sounds incredibly hard.”

“Ah well. I don’t think my mentor really liked me in the first place,” Valdus shrugged, brushing her sympathies aside, “Nothing to get weepy over.”

He pushed his hair behind his ear and propped his elbows on the desk, “One last thing before you rest on something that isn’t earth or rock: We need to discuss what this threat is against our world. And where you come in.”

“Right… we do need to do that.”

Valdus stood and moved to the door, “Let me show you around the house. Not that you’ll be staying in it long I suppose, but we can walk while we talk.”

They retraced their steps down the hallway and up the stairs, this time with Emel accompanying them. Both of them listened without a word as Amarel spoke.

“There is an ancient elvhen who wishes to restore the elves to what they once were; to how they used to be when he walked the earth. He believes the only way he can do this is by destroying the very Veil he created. With the Fade freed, the world will fall into chaos and he will lift the elves up from the ashes. As of now, he is working to enact this plan.”

Valdus didn’t respond for a moment.

“That… is troubling. I had assumed when I saw the letter that the world threat was some sort of political group or radical cult following. This is an entirely different matter.”

He was so deeply perturbed by the information that Amarel felt her concerns lift a little. It was clear he took this seriously.

“It is of vital importance that we try to stop him. I believe he can be reasoned with, but regardless… We can’t let him go through with this.”

She cast him a searching look, “He knows of my friends who helped close the Breach and he’d know how to counter them. So, I need new companions to fight against him, companions who are willing to commit. The rest of the world may not know about it, but it’s a fight we can’t lose.”

“Trust me, Dalish, I’m not taking this lightly. I know what would happen if the Fade was let loose on this raw earth.”

Valdus gestured half-heartedly to the guest room he had led Amarel to on the second level, his mind clearly preoccupied.

“Do you have any other help?”

“There is some waiting at Antiva City. It’s where we need to head next.”

“Antiva City, hm? That’s quite the journey, close to a month away. Then we won’t waste a second. I know of a caravan of commoners heading there and we’ll join them as soon as light hits the horizon.”

Amarel glanced back at Emel, who was still with them.

“Thoughts?”

“ _I have sensed the stirrings in the Fade,_ ” The spirit replied, “ _Though it comes to me weak and muddled. Fringes of the Veil have already begun to thin and I fear it will creep through the entire curtain._ ”

The flaming skull tilted down.

“ _I share in my kin’s desire to be a part of this world we were ripped from, but I also am aware of the dangers that come from such a vicious act. Not for myself, but for you mortals. I do not wish to see fires consume these lands for the sake of the old elvhen ways._ ”

Amarel nodded gratefully to it, “Neither would I. My kind need a new purpose, not that of the past.”

Emel seemed pleased, “ _I could not agree more. You have wisdom for your young and magic-less mind._ ”

She wasn’t sure whether to take that as a compliment, but it dredged up a memory of Solas saying something similar. The reminder twisted her insides and left a sour taste on her tongue, but she tried not to show it.

“I appreciate it.”

“Well, now that we’ve got some facts, I suppose all that’s left to do is wait,” Valdus said, “I have food… somewhere. And this room has a bed. I’ll fetch you when it’s time to go to that party.”

It turned out that Nevarrans had no qualms with starting their events late in the night. Amarel spent the rest of the day wandering about the house, examining the statues and beautiful, gothic art littered about. That is, the ones she could see around the mess. Valdus was an eccentric collector, that much was clear; she saw Dwarven artifacts, charts on the stars, a few books on Tevinter and several sketches of Dalish drawings to name a few of the items tossed everywhere. It made entering each room a new adventure of what she would find tucked away.

When exploring wore itself out, there was a good perch by a third story window that gave her a view of the streets below. Amarel watched the steady stream of people in the distance and the few folk who passed Valdus’ house. She knew very little of Nevarra besides what Cas had told her, but it had not been quite what she expected. Cumberland, at least, had an odd peace to it. Even with the bustle by the ports and the vastness of the cityscape, Amarel did not feel threatened by being there.

With the time she had, she reached out once more to the Well and once more she felt as if she was being blocked. This left Amarel only with her thoughts, and not all of them were kind.

Where was Solas now? What was he doing?

How far was he in accomplishing his goals? Did she take too much time waiting?

If she could get to him, how could she change his mind?

Was she too late?

Amarel huffed and her breath clouded the cool window pane. She pulled the jawbone free from under her armor and held it aloft to examine it. Solas had worn it the whole time; the whole time it was staring her in the face, blatantly obvious.

And she was too naive to see it.

Her thumb rested on one of the sharp canines and Amarel pressed down gently until it pinched her skin.

“You don’t want to spill blood,” She murmured to it as if he could hear, “I know it. And Cole knew it too, he still believed in you.”

The last golden rays of sunlight passed through the window and danced across the polished bone. Amarel stared at it for awhile longer before tucking it away again.

By the time Valdus came to get her, she was dozing against the window pane. When Amarel was gently shaken awake, she was initially confused by how dark it was outside. Street lamps were blazing and the sound of people outside still emanated into the house, but the stars above were numerous.

“What… what time is it?”

“Close to midnight,” Valdus replied without looking, “Which means the party is about to begin. Are you ready?”

Amarel stared at him incredulously, “The party is about to begin? Is this normal for Nevarrans?”

Valdus was equally as confused, “Yes? We often stay up late. Do you not?”

“Personally? Not usually.”

“Well, you’ll be exhausted in the morning then, because we won’t be sleeping. We’ll arrive back here to grab Emel and a few supplies, then head straight to the main gate.”

“Ah, I see. No rest for the wicked then,” Amarel stood and stretched, grimacing a little at the thought, “This ought to be fun.”

“Clearly.” Valdus was a little amused, “Let’s just hope we don’t get attacked on the road before you get some shut-eye.”

The house hosting the “Danse Macabre”, as Valdus jokingly called it, was in the next door district. Given how close the houses were to each other, it wasn’t too hard for Amarel to scale the neighboring one Valdus directed her to once her arm was activated. Once she was situated on the sloping roof behind one of the several chimneys, she peered down at the lavish garden below.

This was clearly where Nevarran riches excelled. The immaculately trimmed hedges were interspersed with smaller, similar statutes of ancestors that glistened gold in the light of the lamps. Someone had enchanted illusionary blue butterflies to flit about. Servants wandered with trays of finger food and bubbling drinks. The place was crowded with a plethora of elegantly dressed mages, most of them in their early twenties. Valdus’ peers.

Amarel flexed the fingers of her spiritual hand and notched one of the black arrows loosely to her bow. It was obvious upon first glance that Valdus had not been lying about his reputation. Only a couple of the mages greeted him when he arrived and he spent most of the time looking bored and throwing back glasses of the alcohol in varying corners. No one approached him and he didn’t interact with anybody. He was silently avoided by all.

At least, until several hours later, when the drunken boasting began. Amarel could barely hear from her vantage point, but she recognized the tone of brazen praise to oneself. It was much like how Dorian sounded but less charming and more irritating.

In the midst of the jesting and calls to one another about who was better, Valdus’ name came up. Heads turned toward where he stood, suddenly very interested in him like a creature on display, expected to perform. There were jeers and a few beckoned him to come forward. Amarel’s bowstring tightened a little as she watched and waited.

Valdus stepped up with a confidence she could not fathom and began to speak. Almost instantly, Amarel saw a couple at the back whispering to each other and sniggering. She didn’t need to know what they were saying to know it was not kind.

She drew back the arrow, took aim and fired. It zipped down and struck the ground right at the couples’ feet and exploded; oily black liquid spattered their expensive robes and speckled the ground from impact.

One of the mages shrieked and the other jumped back, swearing ferociously. Surprised looks were cast their way and Valdus paused to wait until they had settled down. Once they had lapsed into confused and angered silence, he finished his speech. The incident was forgotten and immediately, some of the students began teasing Valdus with less-than-appropriate questions.

Amarel now saw exactly what kind of prank this was going to be and she was grinning broadly. The second she saw another mage rolling her eyes, she loosened an arrow. This time, she angled it so it struck the step nearby and cascaded the oil up the mage’s sleeve and onto her cheek. Another swiftly landed in the center of a trio who had started ignoring Valdus in favor of talking and doused them all.

The partygoers knew something was up. Furious gazes started scanning the skyline while victims started pointing fingers at Valdus. He had stayed perfectly straight-faced the entire time and shrugged nonchalantly at their accusations. And with Amarel keeping low, none of them could find the source of the attacks.

It was clear to them at this point that they weren’t going to have their fun and many of them started turning away, dismissing the necromancer entirely.

“Don’t you dare turn your backs on me now!”

Amarel heard Valdus’ furious yell and fired arrows at the retreating groups, creating a barrier of oil that forced them to stop. Valdus advanced on them all and this time, she could hear him clearly.

“You think you can call it quits just because you don’t have a victim to toy with anymore!? Is this game no longer fun? I will remind you that my family could crush all of you with their thumb, you pathetic, closed-minded _scum_.”

His voice dripped with scorn, “I am no wash out to be picked on; I have seen things your weak Fade dreams couldn’t begin to comprehend. You are not _better_ than me. And next time you bring me and expect me to dance, those arrows won’t be just a harmless trick.”

With that, he bowed deeply to the stunned onlookers and strode off. He snatched a goblet from one of the mages and downed the contents, tossing it carelessly behind him. Amarel took the cue and climbed off of the roof and hurried to the street to join him.

It took her a second to find Valdus. He was tucked into an alleyway, doubled over and braced against the wall.

“Valdus, are you okay?”

He shook his head and Amarel realized he was stricken from laughter. Tears were in his eyes and his shoulders were shaking with mirth.

“I’ve… wanted to do that for _ages_!” He gasped, “Did you see their faces–??”

Words failed him and he stepped away from the wall, cackling madly.

“Oh, that was brilliant,” He finally breathed when he recovered, “Your timing was perfect, Dalish. That almost made that whole, stupid thing worth it.”

Valdus straightened up and smoothed flyaway strands of hair back into his ponytail. He composed himself as best as possible, then extended his hand, still looking delighted and much more endeared toward her.

“Thank you. You’ve been a pleasure to work with and at this rate, I look forward to future endeavors.”

Bemused but entertained, Amarel accepted the handshake.

“As do I, that was more fun than I thought it would be. I didn’t expect you to walk out, though.”

“Neither did I, to be honest,” Valdus replied, “But everything timed itself so well I just felt inspired to blow up at them.”

“I think it was an impressive sight.”

“Wasn’t it? I’m quite proud.”

Valdus extended an arm back toward the street.

“Shall we? We have some time now to make sure we don’t rush. Emel is waiting.”

They took a slightly longer route back to the house so Valdus could give Amarel a small tour. Even with an hour until dawn, the city was still lit up and cast a different sort of quiet beauty over the streets, with the statues as large, silent guardians. By the time they arrived at Valdus’ front door, they had struck up a conversation about several different topics and there was a new camaraderie flourishing between them that made interactions far more comfortable.

“ _I see the party went well,_ ” Emel commented dryly when they came breezing in.

“Even better than expected,” Valdus replied, “Have you packed what you need? You have a hood, yes? It would be best to douse that flaming skull of yours as best as possible.”

“ _Quit fussing, I have my items and I am well aware of the low profile we must keep. Go gather your stuff; I certainly didn’t prepare it._ ”

“As selfish as ever.”

While Valdus ran to throw items in a purse, Amarel remained at the front door. Now that they were finally about to hit the road again, a prick of anxiety was sitting in her stomach and making it churn.

“ _I thought over what you told us of the ancient elvhen who wishes to tear down the Veil._ ” Emel’s words jolted her from her thoughts, “ _You speak of the Dread Wolf, do you not?_ ”

That surprised her. She turned to the spirit.

“Yes, that’s him. You know the Dread Wolf?”

“ _I know of him. I have been around far longer than even Valdus knows._ ” Emel studied her carefully, “ _My curiosity resides in your relationship to him. You believe you can change the Trickster god’s mind?_ ”

“He’s not a god.” Her reply was immediate, instinctive, “Just a powerful mage. And yes, I do think I can change his mind. I don’t think he really wants to destroy the world.”

“ _But why? What makes you so special so as to think you could keep him from his purpose?_ ”

“He…” Amarel suddenly found it hard to look at the flaming eyes, “He and I had a close relationship. I didn’t know him as the Dread Wolf, I just knew him as a person. He helped us close the Breach and he saved my life.”

But Emel had brought up a good point. What did make her think she was so special? She had known Solas, certainly, but was that enough to stop him? Why would he listen to her when he didn’t do so back at the Crossroads?

Amarel let out a long breath and stubbornly shoved the doubts aside.

“He’s given me a chance to persuade him otherwise and I will do so,” She said, “Whatever it takes.”

Emel didn’t say anything, merely staring at her. Without muscles to make facial expressions, it was impossible to read it.

“ _You have admirable resolve._ ” It finally replied, “ _Your purpose is sound, but it is not an easy path. You know this, I assume?_ ”

“I do.”

“ _Then I will assist you in your endeavor._ ”

Amarel smiled, “Thank you.”

“I found it!” Valdus called from down the hallway. He ran forward, shoving a scroll in his bag, “Damn thing hiding from me… I can’t understand why I can’t find anything down there.”

“ _Can’t you? Your intelligence astounds me,_ ” Emel said and Amarel had to choke back a laugh.

“Don’t be clever. Come on, the caravan won’t wait for us.”


	4. Private Eye

The sky was beginning to lighten along the edges of the Vimmark Mountains as the trio made their way to Cumberland’s front gates. The road to Antiva City was long and branched off from the Imperial Highway after crossing the Minanter River; it was not nearly as well guarded or as well kept, despite Antiva’s relations with all of the other nations. More often than naught, travel to Antiva was done by ship, as per their culture of life on the seas.

The caravan they were traveling with consisted of a few carts and several people on horseback, while most were on foot. Amarel saw couriers and tradesmen, villagers looking to make a new life and young travelers ready to seek their fortunes. Many of them cast curious stares at Valdus and Emel, who was now hooded and wore a metal face mask.

“Did you not have plain clothes to change into?” Amarel murmured to the necromancer.

He frowned at her, then down at the high quality black robes edged in dark blue designs, “These are my plain clothes?”

She sighed and Emel cackled.

It took Amarel a bit of time to adjust to the pace of moving in a group, which was slower than what she was used to. She spent most of the first day with her head down, listening to the chatter around her and keeping a wary eye on the trees and hills around them. Valdus barely spoke, immersed in a book that he was miraculously reading while walking and not missing a beat. Emel, however, struck up conversations with several people and proved to be quite amiable to strangers, even with it’s distorted sound. It got a few of their traveling companions to tell their stories, which passed the time well.

There seemed to be a general understanding of when to stop and camp and when to wake and keep moving. And despite the difference in pace, they did gain quite a bit of ground over the passing days. By the end of the week, they had crossed the Minanter River and the trio had struck a fair accord with a couple seeking new jobs, a courier for an Antivan noble and a dwarven woman driving one of the carts. Amarel got to talking with her when she was hailed on the fifth day of travel.

“Hey there! Elven lady!”

There was only one other elf in the group, so Amarel assumed the comment was directed at her. When she glanced over at the dwarf, she lit up.

“Yes, you! Do you need help carrying any of your items? If you’d like, you can toss them on my cart.”

Amarel wasn’t sure why the woman was offering to help her until she remembered her stub of a left arm. After using the band Dorian gave her so often, it had become much less of an inconvenience. She almost forgot about it.

“Oh, I appreciate it. But I’m alright, they don’t cause me any trouble.”

She smiled wryly, “It’s catching them when I slip them off that’s an issue.”

The woman giggled, her dark eyes sparkling. She patted the seat next to her.

“Why don’t you rest your legs a bit at least? I wouldn’t mind some company; it’s hard to get to know people when you’re steering a cart.”

Amarel had nothing against giving her feet a break. She deftly hopped onto the cart and sat next to the traveler, who beamed.

“Excellent! You’re very light on your feet.” The dwarf stuck out her swarthy hand, “My name is Bellara Aban.”

“Amarel. It’s good to meet you.”

“Oh, that’s a nice name! Alright, Amarel, why are you heading to Antiva City? I noticed you don’t talk much.”

“Is that the real reason you brought me up here? To get me to talk a bit?”

Bellara smiled innocently and Amarel couldn’t help but smile back.

“I’m not usually unwilling to converse, I admit. Just a lot on my mind right now.”

“Are you worried about going to Antiva?”

“No, not quite. I’m going to reunite with some family there, I suppose I’m just anxious to see them again.”

Apparently, lying through her teeth was much easier than she thought. She, Valdus and Emel had crafted their fake reasons for the trip while walking to the front gates on the first day. Until now, Amarel hadn’t had a reason to use the excuse. Most people avoided the silent, hooded elf wearing black.

“That sounds like it will be exciting!” Bellara replied brightly, “But I understand being anxious. I’m pretty nervous about my plans as well.”

Amarel inspected her. The woman wore plain clothes under well made armor, and her brunette hair was pulled into a bun. There was nothing on her outfit, nor markings on her face to suggest her occupation.

“May I ask what your plans are?”

“Yes, you may!”

It was clear Bellara had hoped Amarel would take the bait. She straightened up in her seat and cleared her throat, “I am going to Antiva City to start my new business as a private detective.”

She said it so proudly and with such conviction that Amarel knew she wasn’t lying. But she had never heard of such a job before.

“A private detective? What is that exactly?”

“An investigator!” Bellara exclaimed, “I’ll be hired by individuals, businesses, whoever needs me to look into a matter secretly. It’ll have suspense! Intrigue! Mysteries and puzzle solving!”

The more she talked about it the more excited she became.

“I know it’s not a common career, so I’m hoping I’ll get some traction. And Antiva City seemed like a good place to start.”

“It certainly sounds interesting,” Amarel replied. She was warming up to Bellara’s spunky personality, “Although I’d suggest trying to get your start in Orlais. They’d love that kind of drama.”

“Mm, that _is_ true… But I really needed to get away from the south. Some bad blood, you know? None of my family like my idea, so I wanted to start fresh.”

The note of confidence in her voice flickered. Bellara was silent for a moment, then perked back up.

“But it’s okay. I’m going to get this business off of the ground, I just know it! With or without support.”

Amarel’s smile grew, “I wish you luck. It’s not easy setting out on your own.”

“Hey, someone’s got to do it. It sounds like you did it, too!”

“Yes… something of the sort.”

For the rest of the day, Amarel rode with Bellara, talking here and there about whatever came to mind. Bellara was, if possible, a more inquisitive individual than Amarel, and most of the time was spent asking and answering questions. Midway through, Emel was invited onto the cart and Valdus quickly followed. A blend of conversation ensued between all four of them. To Amarel, it was as if everything was almost normal. For one second, she got to forget about her worries and simply make a new friend.

That night, she sensed the Fade in her dreams, but couldn’t find the wolf that always followed. The vibrations hung in the corners of her mind, as if unwilling to invade like usual. It was not the vast forest she was so used to either; instead Amarel found herself amidst the ruins of a grand elvhen hall with a statue of Mythal in the distance. As she drew nearer, she saw a collapsed figure lying at the base of the statue, unmoving. Amarel picked up her pace, calling out into the dead silence.

“Hello? Are you alright?”

She reached the figure and bent down to check them, only to draw back in horror. The corpse was petrified and bronzed, staring up at the sky, but Amarel recognized her face.

“Flemeth…?”

A prickle ran up her spine. Amarel glanced up at the looming, helmeted head of Mythal and as she did, her wrist was seized in a vice like grip. She jumped and looked down to see Flemeth’s sightless eyes on her. Her mouth didn’t move, but Amarel heard her voice, echoing around the empty pillars.

_A soul is not forced upon the unwilling._

The eyes flashed a brilliant blue and Amarel jerked awake in a sweat. The scar on her left arm was aching. Panting, she clutched at her pounding heart and her palm met the hard bone of the wolf’s jaw. Without thinking, Amarel pulled it out and held it tight, the cool, solid mineral soothing against her fevered skin.

For a few minutes, she sat there, grounding herself back to reality. Just as she was beginning to feel better, someone to her left spoke softly.

“Bad dream?”

Amarel nearly leapt out of her skin. Valdus snickered softly at the glare she threw him and turned his attention from the notes he had been jotting down. A ball of golden flames flickered in the air next to him, providing a dim light that didn’t rouse those around them from their slumber.

“You should see your face.”

“Very funny,” Amarel grumbled, “What are you doing up? It’s late.”

“Nevarrans rarely sleep at the appropriate times, remember? We may be on a regular schedule but my body is used to a certain type of lifestyle.”

Valdus gestured to his journal, “So if I’m going to be up, I might as well write.”

He closed it and tossed it haphazardly into his pack, frowning at her, “What was the nightmare you were dreaming of?”

“It wasn’t really a nightmare. It was just… uncanny.” Amarel drew her knees up to her chest despite the warmth of the night, “I was in the Fade, I think, and I dreamed of Mythal.”

Her gaze was drawn to The Hundred Pillars, the odd phenomenon in the distance that they would soon be passing on their road to Antiva City.

“Flemeth’s body was at her feet, but I don’t understand… Flemeth and Mythal were one when I last saw them. Usually the Fade has shown some semblance of truth, so does that mean Flemeth is dead?”

That only left more questions. If Flemeth was dead, why had she died looking like that? Where was Mythal? What had the message meant? She had told Morrigan the same thing when Morrigan accused her of stealing her daughters’ bodies.

“I’m sorry, you were in the _Fade_?” Valdus’ slender brow was arched, “I hate to call fraud, Dalish, but last time I checked, you are no mage. Non-magic users cannot lucid dream in the Fade.”

“I’ve visited it on multiple occasions, but usually it’s because Solas brought me there or he entered my dreams. This time felt different.”

“Is Solas the mage-whoever that threatens the world?”

“Yes.”

“Hm.” Valdus squinted at her skeptically, “You said your history was complicated but I didn’t realize it was ‘show-me-your-dreams’ type of complicated. How well did you know this elf?”

Amarel couldn’t meet Valdus’ gaze and that was enough to answer the question.

“Ah, I see. So when you say you want to reason with this Solas, you mean you want to save him because he’s your former lover.”

“It isn’t just because of that. He’s given me reason to believe I can change his mind, otherwise I’d–”

“You’d what? You wouldn’t be chasing after him? You wouldn’t be hoping there’s a chance he isn’t genocidal, that you can get him back? Don’t be so naive.”

Amarel’s fingers curled into her pants and she glared stubbornly at the necromancer, “I don’t know what I’d be doing. Hoping, yes, but not wasting time searching. I’d be aiming to stop his plans and that’s all.”

“Are you sure?”

Amarel opened her mouth to reply, then hesitated. In the silence that followed, Valdus sighed.

“Well, this is quite the complicated tangle, isn’t it? I suppose it was hardly fair of _Solas_ to encourage romance with someone when he planned to kill us all. No wonder you’re so frazzled all the time.”

He leaned back on his arms and tipped his head up at the stars above.

“We’ll do what we can. I’m deferring to your judgement when we finally get around to facing him.”

Amarel was surprised by the announcement, but thankful that he had not dismissed her goals entirely. Her grip on her clothes loosened.

“Thank you, Valdus.”

“Mhm.”

The Hundred Pillars were one of the strangest things Amarel had ever seen. They were massive, engulfing the view to the north so that she couldn’t see the skyline. All of them were roughly the same cylindrical shape, but varying in size and made of a material that she couldn’t identify.

And neither could anyone else, apparently, though several in the group posed theories as to what it could be.

“That is amazing,” Bellara breathed as they officially started passing by the first of the pillars, “I mean, I know we’re only seeing the tail of them, we don’t get to go around the really thick part. But even this is spectacular!”

“It’s certainly something,” Valdus muttered.

He leaned off of the side of the cart to get closer to them, “I cannot guess what that stuff is without properly investigating though. They call it hard dust, but I don’t…”

“ _Some type of mortar that has stood through many ages_ ,” Emel said. It was sitting on the back edge, swinging its legs, “ _It breathes the stories it’s seen through the ages when the wind blows. But no one speaks the language. It’s a pity; without anyone here, they’ve lost their way_.”

“Okay, whatever you say over there,” Bellara snorted, “Stories and Stone and all that nonsense. I’ve heard too much of that before.”

Valdus cast her a look but didn’t say anything. Bellara clicked her tongue at the horse to usher her and her new friends along, keeping up with the group just ahead.

Just as they were rounding a foothill, a low whooping yell came from the nearby Pillars. It was taken up by several more voices until war cries filled the air and a dozen figures appeared over the crest of the hills, charging toward them. The courier recognized the glinting weapons and horned heads first.

“Tal-Vashoth!!”

Chaos ensued. Travelers screamed in fear; some fumbled hurriedly for their weapons and most fled back down the way they had come, uninterested in attempts to fight. The Tal-Vashoth swarmed toward the carts with teeth bared, covered in various patches of leather and worn clothing. Many had one or both horns broken and their bodies were covered in cracked, red paint.

“Son of a bitch!” Bellara swore.

She twisted around and grabbed for the battleaxe tucked right behind her. Amarel’s arm blossomed into existence and Valdus pulled his staff off of his back, both of them moving to their feet with Emel. Those few who were trying to fight were being swiftly overpowered, although none of them had yet been killed. One made an attempt to run at a tall, Tal-Vashoth woman bearing down on him and she deflected his strike with ease and tripped him. Her foot planted itself firmly on his chest and as she pinned him down, she called out gruffly.

“ANYONE WHO VALUES THEIR LIFE BETTER DROP THEIR WEAPONS AND RUN. THE FOOLS WHO FIGHT GET FUCKED.”

She lifted her foot and the human crawled away and ran as fast as he could. Amarel notched an arrow to her bow and fired at the feet of an approaching Tal-Vashoth to ward him off. He snarled at her and sprung forward, roaring in pain as his shoulder was sliced into by Bellara’s axe.

“Back off, big boy!” She shouted, leaping down from her cart.

The Tal-Vashoth aimed his sword at her, only for it to be crossed with a rapier. He swung around and immediately scrambled back when he found himself face to face with a flaming skull dressed in armor and wielding the blade. Emel tossed its mask to the side and held the rapier aloft, calmly waiting for the next strike.

Their resistance had not gone unnoticed. The other Tal-Vashoth were rapidly surrounding the cart. Amarel fired multiple shots at their attackers, sinking her arrows into their hands so that they were forced to drop their weapons. But there was no way to defeat them all without loss of life and she had no wish to cause fatalities.

Not yet.

Fingers closed around her ankle from behind and tugged, sending her toppling to the ground. Amarel wiggled around and kicked out at the Tal-Vashoth dragging her from the cart, but he took the strike with only a grunt of irritation.

Just as Amarel was going for the dagger strapped to her leg, the man howled in pain and released her. He staggered to the side, grasping at his back where a shard-like object was sticking out of it. It was made of a dark metal and edged in gold; some sort of projectile that she had never seen before.

Amarel was instantly back on her feet and looking to the horizon where trees and valleys began to reclaim the landscape. But she couldn’t see anyone there no matter how hard she searched.

“Dalish, we could use the help!”

She whipped around. Valdus had been forced from the cart as well and now stood back to back with Emel and Bellara. She hurriedly joined them, all four of them forming a square, shoulders touching, as they stood off against the warriors enclosing them.

There was a lull as both parties stared at each other, waiting for the other to make a move. The tall Tal-Vashoth who seemed to be the leader strode forward, one of her curved handle blades resting on her shoulder.

“What mess do we have here? Are you idiots deaf!?”

She shoved her way through two of the others to approach the group. Her silver eyes were brilliant against her metallic grey skin and her wavy white hair cascaded everywhere as she glared down at them all.

“I told you to flee or get fucked. You have a death wish?”

“That’s the wrong crowd to ask that to,” Valdus replied and Emel snickered.

The woman’s stare hardened and Amarel hurriedly answered before anything got worse.

“You told us to leave, but my companions and I need to get to Antiva City. We cannot turn back.”

“Oh yeah?” The woman lowered her blade so that it was level with Amarel’s throat, “Even under pain of death, elf?”

Amarel met her eyes levelly, even as the point dug into her skin.

“Yes. Even under pain of death, Tal-Vashoth.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Emel’s grip on its rapier tighten and Valdus’ palms crackled with magic. The leader analyzed her for a moment longer; then the tiniest hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. She lowered her blade.

“You’ve got a pair on you, elf. I’ll give you that.”

She circled the rest of the group slowly, eyeing them up. When she got to Valdus, the woman stopped.

“You. You’re a Nevarran.”

Without warning, she grabbed him by his robes and dragged him forward. Emel moved to strike but Amarel threw out her arm to stop it.

“Wait,” She whispered.

Valdus attempted to shove his way free, but the woman only held his collar tighter, a grin now on her face.

“You’re a noble Nevarran at that. No one wears pretty boy robes like these who doesn’t have a fair bit of coin backing him.”

She released him and he stumbled back, coughing.

“Alright, we take the lot with us. We can get ransom off of this one. And probably those three as well. Disarm them and tie them up.”


End file.
